


The Art of Looking for Trouble

by killingsaray



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Bodyguard!Villanelle, F/F, Politician!Eve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: Like an actress who has memorized her lines perfectly, Eve immediately inquires, “What do you think of me?”“I think you have more depth than people give you credit for. I think you have always had to be strong because the people you surround yourself with are timid and deflect their exposed insecurities and fears with humor, and I think you will tire of it very quickly.”ORThe AU where Eve is a politician with a stalker and Villanelle is her newly appointed bodyguard.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 34
Kudos: 228





	The Art of Looking for Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by an AU aesthetic mood board by the wildly brilliant jodiecomerturnedmebi (tumblr)/villaneveaus (twitter). 
> 
> the title comes from a quote by Marx: "Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies."

_"She was the monster that defended them from the other horrors of the world."_

_-Sarah J. Maas, "A Court of Wings and Rain"_

* * *

“I have three rules. One: listen to what I say. Two: do as I say. Three: do not break rules one and two.” 

Eve blinks at the woman standing before her. She’s tall, blonde, petite, Russian and… _is that the new £888 Petar Petrov top?_

The blonde turns to her boss and reminds him, “You said this one would speak English, Konstantin.”

“She does. Maybe she did not understand you.”

“ _She_ is sitting right here,” Eve interjects, “and I understood you perfectly fine.”

“Do you understand my rules?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah is rude. ‘Yes’ is the correct response.”

Eve slams her pen down against the glass table of the conference room they’re sitting in and looks at Konstantin. “Thank you but your services will not be necessary. We do still hope you will vote for Eve Polastri for Police and Crime Commissioner.”

Eve stands and gathers her notepad and pen, poised to leave the office.

“Great. We are done here. I will be at the cafe next door, Konstantin. You owe me breakfast for wasting my time.”

Eve scoffs. 

_As if she’s god’s gift_.

Vasiliev Protective Services is a critically acclaimed bodyguard company —according to its 3,103 reviews on Yelp. Eve knows from her own research —an entire hour dedicated to reading those reviews, thanks very much — that she needs to be in the most capable hands. Especially now. Running for PCC is apparently as dangerous as actually _being_ PCC. From the _moment_ Eve put her hat in the ring, she was subject to death threats, rape threats, and even a bomb threat which kept her from speaking at the last debate.

 _“We need to get you a security detail. A good one.”_ Her campaign manager, Elena had told her a month ago. Up until now, Eve completely disregarded the suggestion. 

But then, last night, Eve found a black rose and a small florist’s card that read “ _See you soon_ ” in elegant handwriting in her hotel room.

Eve watches the blonde walk out of the room. “She’s a delight.”

“Villanelle is also very good at her job. Eve, please reconsider. She has protected presidents, prime ministers, and even the occasional billionaire. She has seen much and experienced even more. That is why she is so brusque,” Konstantin explains to Eve. “I promise she is the best person for this job.”

Eve sighs. She knows Elena will not allow her to travel without a bodyguard and Konstantin knows what he is talking about. That much is obvious. 

“Fine.”

“Good. I will go talk to her.”

“How do you know she will agree to protect me?

Konstantin’s eyes twinkle. “Pancakes.”

Eve’s brows knit together, but Konstantin only laughs.

“Have Elena call my office to draw up the contracts.”

“I will,” replies Eve, though her voice still carries an element of uncertainty.

“Do not worry, Eve Polastri. She will say yes.”

* * *

“No,” huffs Villanelle, arms crossed and expression pulled into a childish pout. She sits back in her chair, extremely aware that she is being a brat.

“Yes.”

“No. She is dense and she will not listen.” Villanelle gazes longingly at a waitress who passes their table with a plate of eggs, bacon, and waffles. She skipped breakfast this morning because Konstantin wanted her at the office no later than 7 AM. She is _hungry_ and all Konstantin wants to do is _talk_. Villanelle is not a talker. She is a woman of action. They speak louder anyway.

“She will listen to you, but you just have to use your training to be a chameleon.”

Villanelle draws her eyes away from the child at the table next to them who had dug into a large stack of strawberry- topped Belgian waffles to look at Konstantin. “What are you saying?”

“You are like a robot, sometimes, Villanelle. Eyes always scanning, gears always turning, calculating the risk in every scenario. I think sometimes you forget that people have emotions. You forget that even _you_ have emotions.”

“Emotions get people killed. Logic keeps them alive.”

“True, but what kind of life are you living if you can’t even stop to enjoy things? You should get a hobby.”

Villanelle leans forward, arms folding on the table. “I have hobbies.”

“Shooting practice is not a hobby,” Konstantin reminds her. Villanelle shrugs because she believes it is a hobby and that’ is all that really matters. “Eve is scared, whether she says so or not. It is her eyes.”

Villanelle sighs. Goddamn damsels in distress. They were probably her only true weakness. And weaknesses, she has come to understand, will also get people killed.

“You fancy yourself a wise old sage, Konstantin,” Villanelle remarks, matter-of-factly. Her face sobers and she looks at him, earnestly. “You put too much faith in me. What if I mess this up too?”

Konstantin reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. “You won’t.” He gestures with two of his fingers at the waitress behind the milkshake bar who nods in return. Villanelle notices, her eyes squint suspiciously, but when she sees the young brunette walking towards them with a plate in her hand, her excitement peaks. Villanelle begins to salivate even as she claps her hands like a child receiving their birthday cake. In mere seconds, a large stack of cinnamon pancakes topped with warm apple slices and whipped cream is sat in front of her, and for a moment, she forgets about her troubles. She chooses one of the four different syrups on their table and pours an unhealthy amount over the fluffy pancakes. She cuts them in triangles and then shoves a forkful into her mouth.

“Protect her, Villanelle. She is not Anna.”

Villanelle forces the pancakes past the knot in her throat and considers this. 

Anna. 

That was not her finest hour as a bodyguard. Perhaps with Eve, she can right the wrong she created in the universe. She nods hesitantly.

“I will do it.”

“Good. One last thing.” Konstantin just lives for his final news.

“What?” She asks around a mouthful of sugary goodness.

“Nadia will be your second-in-command.”

Villanelle groans and stabs her fork into the pancakes. Konstantin smiles and reaches over with his own fork but is stopped by the butterknife Villanelle is suddenly brandishing in a threatening manner. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Pancakes,” he chuckles to himself.

* * *

The first thing Eve notices about Villanelle is that she looks.

At everything. 

She takes in every little detail about the hotel suite. Her eyes move from left to right before her head even swivels to match their movement. Even as she studies the fire escape routes posted beside the door, she never speaks, as if she’s listening for the smallest noises that may give away someone or something that shouldn’t be there. The suite is essentially two bedrooms separated by a large living area, kitchenette, and dining room. Nadia clears the bedroom to the right, while Villanelle clears the one to the left. They check under the beds, inside the closets. Villanelle slides her hand across the heavy drapes against the windows lest someone is hiding there. She slides back the shower curtain and liner to make sure no one is in there and runs her fingers underneath the lampshades and light fixtures to check for tint cameras or electronic bugs.

Finally comfortable enough to allow Eve and her team into the room, Villanelle gestures wordlessly as she holds the door open for them. Elena, Eve, and one staffer, who Villanelle knows as Kenny, step inside and immediately begin to make themselves comfortable. 

The second thing Eve notices about her is that Villanelle is actually quite beautiful. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, parted smartly on the left, and looks darker than when they first met. Her black suit is cut specifically for her body and it accentuates her slim frame perfectly. Eve thinks that Villanelle must make a nice living working as a personal bodyguard. And Eve cannot help but watch as Villanelle takes off her suit jacket, drapes it over the back of the couch, and rolls up the sleeves of her white button-down. She is wearing vertical shoulder holsters, made of black leather, that hold twin Heckler and Koch 9mm pistols with stainless slides on either side of her. 

_Pretty_ , Eve thinks, despite the fact that they are weapons, designed specifically for _one_ purpose. 

Villanelle sees. Just like she sees everything else. But she spares Eve the embarrassment because it is not her fault that Villanelle is beautiful. Besides, Villanelle knows that she has a pretty face her entire life. She is used to people gaping at her. 

What she _is not_ used to is actually _liking_ it. Villanelle is not blind. She sees Eve’s beauty too. Soft skin. Perfect ass in those tie-waist tapered ankle pants. A hint of cleavage coming from her loose button-up. Black framed glasses that made her brown eyes pop even more. And oh god, she is pulling her hair out of its elastic. 

Fuck. Villanelle swallows harshly. _Untamed curls_.

And now, for the love of all things unholy, Eve is shaking them out, trying to loosen the tension the elastic caused to her scalp. 

Villanelle briefly wonders if Eve has allowed any of her lovers to grip a fistful of it during a particularly climactic moment of pleasure before she clears her throat. The blonde refocuses on her task and backs herself against a wall, watching silently as everyone moves about the room. 

“Okay, Eve, I need you to start writing your speech for the next debate. Carolyn Martens is not fucking around since you bested her in the first round of debates.”

“Maybe if she did fuck around a little, she wouldn’t be so incredibly uptight,” Kenny mutters as he opens his laptop at the glass dining room table. 

There is a beeping noise before the door opens and Eve barely has time to blink before Villanelle rounds the corner of the wall, gun in hand but pointed at the ground and Nadia appears from almost nowhere, two tactical knives in her hands. 

“Whoa, calm down, Lara Crofts, it’s just a tea delivery.”

Villanelle shoots a glance at Eve who suppresses a smirk and shakes her head once. “Hugo’s a pain in the ass, but he’s harmless.”

“Stand down,” Villanelle tells Nadia who makes quick work of making her knives disappear. Villanelle holsters her weapon again. 

“I got you a coffee, but I feel like you don’t need any caffeine. You two are already on edge.”

Villanelle says nothing, but her annoyed expression is enough to scoot Hugo away from her and towards his colleagues. 

The remainder of the day passes with political conversations and witty remarks from the peanut gallery, as Villanelle has decided to call Hugo. He and Kenny take their leave at half-past eight, leaving Eve and Elena to their own devices. Nadia and Villanelle debrief quietly in the doorway of the suit and Nadia left, heading to the room just across the hall. 

“Drink?” Elena inquires, already reaching inside her large handbag. Eve’s eyes light up at the enormous bottle of Tanqueray that Elena produces. She lets out a groan and closes her laptop. 

“God, yes.” She pulls her glasses off and tosses them atop her computer. 

Villanelle perches on the arm of the couch and works out a knot between her shoulder and neck. When she lowers her head, she sees Eve pulling her hair back, working it through her fingers until she has a nice grip on every curl. Villanelle finds herself desperately hoping Eve won’t actually put them up and sighs with relief when she lets them drop back down. 

The audible exhale draws Elena’s attention who grabs a third glass from the minibar. “Villanelle, come join us.”

“No.” The blonde says, brusquely before amending, “No, thank you. I have to stay alert.”

“Oh, come on. Something tells me one drink won’t render you completely useless.” Eve teases, accepting her drink from Elena. 

“I have vodka if you prefer.” Elena reaches inside her bag and pulls out a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit and Villanelle grins and it feels strange to allow herself to relax even a fraction in this setting.

Eve laughs and clasps her hands together. “So, she _does_ smile.”

Villanelle stands from the couch and heads into the dining room to sit at the table with them. She sits across from Eve whose gaze lingers just a second too long and makes Villanelle silently remind herself to keep it in her goddamn pants. 

Villanelle does not feel most emotions like other people. She has what was once called an Axis II Personality Disorder. It is not that she does not have emotions, it is just that they are turned way down. So, it surprises even her to feel her heart pounding just a bit as Eve smiles at her over the rim of her glass tumbler.

Villanelle accepts the drink Elena pours for her and sits it on the table because she is already resigned to allowing these two to let loose. From the extremely boring conversations they had earlier, Villanelle figures they could use it. All they talk about is the campaign, and while Villanelle normally does not allow herself the delusion of faith, she is really hoping they are more interesting than they let on.

* * *

As it turns out, hope is not such a bad thing to have after all.

Eve is mid-laugh, her mouth opens wide, head tossed back and hands clapping together. Elena’s shoulders are shaking with amusement and she slaps the table with one hand while the other flies to her mouth in an attempt to keep inside the liquid she has just sipped. They crack themselves up, as far as Villanelle can tell. She does not understand the private joke the two have just shared, but she is intrigued nonetheless. 

“Thank god you got out of that marriage when you did,” teases Elena. Villanelle’s ears perk up because she has read many things in Eve’s file but that must have been missing. So, Eve Polastri is straight. Well, it won’t be the first time Villanelle has fallen for a straight, middle-aged woman. 

_Anna_.

No, that is a bad thought. 

“Stop. Niko wasn’t all that bad.”

“Can you believe her, Villanelle?” Elena asks, pulling the blonde from her own thoughts. She raises her brows in question. “Always the diplomat, even after he cheated with a kindergarten teacher.”

Eve rolls her eyes. “She teaches grade nine English”

“Same difference. They’re all children.” Elena responds, draining the contents of her glass. 

“And anyway, what’s the point of bad-mouthing him? It won’t change the past. It’s better to look towards making the future better for everyone.”

“See?” Elena gives Villanelle a pointed look. “Diplomatic.”

“You should try it sometimes,” Eve tells her, tugging a tendril of Elena’s soft hair, lovingly. 

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with talking about how someone has made you feel. You do not have to necessarily bad-mouth them. The truth is the truth.” Villanelle hears herself saying. She cannot remember when her lips started moving, all she can comprehend is the thoughtful look on Eve’s face and the amused expression on Elena’s. It is quiet for a few moments before Eve leans forward and picks up her pen.

“The truth is the truth.” She mutters as she jots it down. “You don’t mind if I use that in my speech do you?”

Villanelle shakes her head. “No. Feel free.”

Elena sighs. “That’s my cue to shower and go to bed.”

“What? Why?” Eve asks, still writing. Elena stands from the table and stretches her limbs. 

“I know you. Once you’re on a roll, you won’t stop until you’ve finished, and that’s absolutely no fun for me.” 

Eve finally looks up and gives her an apologetic smile. “It’ll be worth it when you see the color drain from Carolyn’s smug little face.”

“God, I can't wait for that. Night.” She says to Eve before looking at Villanelle. “Thanks for your hard work today. Sleep well.”

“You too,” Villanelle says and finds that she means it. Elena is sassy and has grown on her in the few hours that they have known one another. 

The door to Elena’s suite clicked shut behind her and Eve and Villanelle are alone. Villanelle watches as Eve’s hand sails smoothly across the page. She wants to say something, make conversation, but really what is there to say? They have nothing in common, it appears, and Villanelle hates forced conversation almost as much as she hates the thought of conversing with most people at all.

Instead, Villanelle stands and makes a lap around the room, stopping at the window. She slips the black drapes to one side and uses a hand to work out a kink in her neck as she searches for potential threats in the buildings opposite them. Once she feels secure that there are none, Villanelle sighs and turns back to the room. Eve is watching her. When she realizes that she’s been caught, Eve clears her throat and begins to gather her notes. She piles the papers atop her computer and picks it up as she rises from the table. 

“I’m sorry,” Eve says.

“What for?”

“Keeping you up so late. I’m sure you want to get to bed.”

“I am used to late hours. Really,” assures Villanelle because it’s true. She can’t remember the last time she was asleep before two a.m. The short stint of work before Eve was a god-awful heiress that loved to party. Besides, she is to share a suite with Nadia just across the hall and it is not high on her list of wants. 

_Eve, however..._

“Please,” Villanelle suggests, “finish your speech. I do not mind.”

Eve stands there, her arms full, awkwardly debating between going to bed and sitting back down at the table to finish writing.

“Well, I’ll at least shower and that should give you some time to yourself for a bit.”

“You are most vulnerable in the shower. I will wait until you are finished.” 

Eve talks a big game about not being afraid, but Villanelle can tell by the brief widening of her eyes that she hasn’t fully considered that someone may kill her while she’s doing something as mundane as showering. 

“And when will you shower and sleep?”

Villanelle smiles. “When it is time for Nadia’s shift.”

“Right.” She nods once. Taps a finger against the table. Nods again. “Okay, well, I’ll shower and come back out to write some more. If you don’t mind.”

Villanelle smiles. “Okay.”

Eve drops her things back into the table and heads for the room opposite Elena’s, gently shutting the door behind her.

* * *

_When Eve returns to the common area, Villanelle is sitting on the sofa, upper body bent over the coffee table. She makes her way back to the dining table and, not-so-subconsciously, sits at the perfect angle to see Villanelle. Before the blonde, there are her twin pistols sitting atop a black cloth. Villanelle presses the magazine release and catches the magazine in her hand, examining the weight in her palm. She pulls back the slide and locks it. A side smirk appears on her face._

_“You are staring,” Villanelle says before she can stop herself. She turns a fraction to peer at Eve while slipping her pinkie finger into the chamber to check for any solitary ammunition._

_Eve swallows and finds her voice to say, “Sorry, I don’t know much about guns. They scare me a little.”_

_Villanelle makes a gesture with two of her fingers, summoning Eve to the couch. And as if she can not resist the pull, Eve is magnetized towards the blonde. She roosts on the arm and watches as Villanelle picks up a tiny brush and slides it in and out of the chamber, clearing it of any debris that may prevent the gun from firing properly._

_“Everything is terrifying until you take the time to understand it.” As she speaks, Villanelle removes the slide completely, followed by the spring and the remaining barrel. She lays it flat on the cloth and looks at Eve. “When you break something down to its components and see what it is made up of, it is much less scary. See?”_

_It is true. Even as Eve slides down to sit beside Villanelle and looks at the thin slivers of metal and titanium that make up the gun, she can see that they look like broken pieces of a child’s toy._

_“And it is even less intimidating when you learn to respect each piece and what it is capable of.” Villanelle gently cleans each piece until they are gleaming brightly in the warmly lit room. Then, in less than fifteen seconds, Villanelle reassembles the first gun, and Eve is incredibly aware of just how aroused this makes her._

_“Is that how you analyze people, too?”_

_“Of course. I have to in my line of work.” Villanelle begins to disassemble the last gun, cleaning as she goes._

_“Of course,” Eve reaffirms quietly._

_“No, you are wondering if I have broken you down to your barest components, aren’t you?” The blonde muses with a smile as she reassembles her weapon._

_“Wouldn’t you?”_

_She shrugs. “The important thing is not what they think of me, but what I think of them.”_

_Eve will ask exactly what Villanelle wants her to ask because really she is quite adroit at mind fucking people into whichever position she wants them._

_Like an actress who has memorized her lines perfectly, Eve immediately inquires, “What do you think of me?”_

_“I think you have more depth than people give you credit for. I think you have always had to be strong because the people you surround yourself with are timid and deflect their exposed insecurities and fears with humor, and I think you will tire of it very quickly.” Villanelle rests her forearms on her knees and looks Eve directly in her eyes. “I think you are smart and determined. Hard-headed, and will most likely be a royal pain in my ass until this assignment is over.” Eve chuckles at that. “Mostly, I just think you are beautiful.”_

_Eve’s heart stops as her eyes search Villanelle’s face. “Really?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I think you’re beautiful, too.” Eve leans forward, places a hand on Villanelle’s face and takes a moment to freely commit her features to memory without having to be covert about it. Villanelle tilts ever so slightly into the touch, unashamedly enjoying the way Eve’s skin feels against her own. Eve shifts closer until her face is centimeters from Villanelle’s. She’s still cautious, afraid that Villanelle will realize just how inappropriate they are being. Villanelle is here to protect Eve and really that should be it but the animal attraction is undeniable and there really isn’t much to lose except her job. And it would be nothing to get another._

_So she takes the plunge and crosses the invisible line of sexual tension that hangs between them and presses her lips against Eve’s, who immediately moans into the kiss._

_“Fuck.” Villanelle whispers and in a heartbeat, Eve is on her back and the blonde is settling between her legs. The moment Eve slips her tongue between Villanelle’s parted lips, they groan as if they have both been dying to taste the other. A hand slips under Eve’s oversized shirt, closes over her left tit and they are both so grateful for the lack of bra. A thumb rubs over her nipple until it stands at attention and then Villanelle pinches firmly. Eve’s hips roll upwards and her hands fumble with the buttons of Villanelle’s shirt because she just wants it_ **_off_ ** _._

_Villanelle tears her mouth away from Eve and rises to her knees so they can work on the buttons together. The moment the shirt falls from her shoulders, Eve’s hands are her waist. Running up her toned stomach. Reaching around to unclasp her bra. Villanelle pulls at the hem of her t-shirt because she won’t be the only one exposing it all. Eve pulls her back down, and they’re kissing again._

_Villanelle presses her hips hard against Eve’s center and the brunette spreads her legs just_ **_that_ ** _much wider. She reaches between their bodies and yanks at the strings of Eve’s pajamas pants. Eve takes her hand and pushes it inside and underneath the waistband of her panties. They glide through warm wetness and then—._

The door to the bathroom opens and jolts Eve out of her fantasy. She yanks her hand away from her pussy and her heart pounds. 

The shower curtain is pulled back and Villanelle is standing there, her pointer finger against her lips and her other hand is holding her own pistol as well as Eve’s towel. Eve swallows the scream in her throat and snatches the towel from Villanelle who gestures for Eve to get out of the shower quickly before taking a split second to appreciate the supple body before her. 

The brunette follows the silent instructions, stepping out of the still-running shower, taking Villanelle’s proffered hand. 

“Did you order room service?” Villanelle whispers.

“What?”

Villanelle repeats herself and Eve shakes her head, real fear quickly creeping into her mind. 

“No, why?” 

“We need to get Elena and get out of here.” Villanelle tells her. 

“What’s going on?”

“There is not time to explain. Do you remember my three rules?”

Eve nods. 

“Good. You have one minute, no more, no less, to get dressed and meet me in the living area. Do you understand?”

Eve cannot fathom what could possibly be happening but whatever it is, Villanelle is concerned enough to invade her privacy to protect her and somehow, there is something within Eve that trusts Villanelle instincts. So, she does as she is told and less than sixty seconds later, she meets Villanelle and Elena in the agreed space. 

And it only takes her .7 seconds to comprehend that there are two dead men dressed at hotel wait staff on the floor of their hotel suite. 

**Author's Note:**

> enormous thank you to ReAnn for helping me with the fantasy sequence! 😩🙌🏽


End file.
